For his eye followed hers, and saw with hers,
Which colored all his objects; he had ceased
To live within himself; she was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all; upon a tone,
A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,
And his cheek change tempestuously--his heart
Unknowing of its cause of agony."
There was a little Welsh air, call "Mary Ann," which, from bearing her
own name, he associated with herself, and often persuaded her to sing
it over and over for him.
The chamber, like all the other parts of the house, had a look of
sadness and neglect; the flower-pots beneath the window, which once
bloomed beneath the hand of Mary Chaworth, were overrun with weeds; and
the piano, which had once vibrated to her touch, and thrilled the heart
of her stripling lover, was now unstrung and out of tune.
We continued our stroll about the waste apartments, of all shapes and
sizes, and without much elegance of decoration. Some of them were hung
with family portraits, among which was pointed out that of the Mr.
Chaworth who was killed by the "wicked Lord Byron."
These dismal looking portraits had a powerful effect upon the
imagination of the stripling poet, on his first visit to the hall.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164